


Recovery

by pretty0dd_semisweet



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretty0dd_semisweet/pseuds/pretty0dd_semisweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Obviously you normally couldn’t remember every face that you have ever seen in your whole life. People would say it was impossible.<br/>Well, I am an exception. Since I can remember I would never forget any face I had ever seen. <br/>Some people would say it was a gift, some would say it was a curse.<br/>For me it’s a death sentence."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pt. 1 - The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I put my heart into this fic and I hope that you appreciate it.

Pt. 1 - The Beginning

The lights were getting closer and closer. In a few moments they would have reached me. They would have caught me up in their bright light that makes it so hard to look at them. The bright light that’s so distracting, it’s paralyzing. It felt like being in a movie, this moment when the car comes near and the character just doesn’t seem to move and you just keep yelling at the screen and sigh in relief when the person finally awakes out of their trance. But I wouldn’t wake up out of that trance. I wouldn’t do the saving step. I would just remain there, waiting for the light to get me, like people always described how they imagined dying: Walking into a light. But only this time the light would come to get me, it would absorb me and my mind, leaving only my body on this dark grey ground, wet from all the raindrops, it was like heaven was crying for me.  
I hadn’t planned this. I had never planned to kill myself. I had never wanted to kill myself actually. I had thought about it, ten times, thousand times maybe, but I wouldn’t have done it with a real action. It was more like that the opportunity just came. It was a rainy day, originally I hadn’t wanted to leave the safety of my flat, the place I mostly hid from the loud, noisy sound of the city and mostly of the faces surrounding me. It was the place I had lived at for about 4 years now, it was my home, the only place I didn’t need to be around other people. It was safe. But instead of staying there I stepped outside, facing the grey everyday life I hated so much. How cruel was it that our life is basically already written for us? We go to kindergarten, we go to school, we finish school, some of us go to college but in the end we go to work almost every day of the week. We’re supposed to do that, we don’t have many other things to do, and way less ways to escape this routine.   
And maybe today was the day I was going to escape. Maybe today I didn’t have to live in this sad excuse of a failed life. As I said before, I hadn’t planned all of this. But now as I stood on the middle of the road, the car coming closer and closer with every second I was waiting for it to end, and maybe the first time I was ready for something. And this time it would be an eternal thing.  
The car was really close now. Soon it would be over. I could almost feel the ground vibrating underneath my feet, the solid pavement being shaken by the approaching vehicle.  
And before I could experience it how to die, I got yanked back.  
Stumbling backwards I fell onto my back, the person who had grabbed my hood suddenly loosening the tight grip as I touched the ground. With closed eyes my body crashed down as the car I had been longingly waiting for rushed past me.  
“What the fuck were you doing?”   
I slowly opened my eyes just to be faced with a young man staring at me, a concerned and angry look on his face. He seemed to be in his middle twenties, had short brown hair and blue eyes. He was holding out his hand so I could grab it and I quickly got up on my feet again. As soon as I was standing I let go of his hand, I always tried to avoid body contact. The man was a little smaller than I was, I now noticed. I had never seen him before.   
You would now think this is something weird to say because obviously you normally couldn’t remember every face that you have ever seen in your whole life. People would say it was impossible.  
Well, I am an exception. Since I can remember I would never forget any face I had ever seen.   
Some people would say it was a gift, some would say it was a curse.  
For me it’s a death sentence.  
Do you know how cruel it is to see someone walking hand in hand with a happy family on a busy day in town in summer and then, two years later you see a picture of that guy in a newspaper because he had killed his whole family. Do you know how cruel it is to see the rise and fall of people surrounding you?  
The thing is you couldn’t even try to understand how cruel it really is.  
You see, this just made everything harder than it already was. And the reality was already hard enough.  
This was one of the reasons I didn’t leave my flat very often. I casually tried to avoid people so I couldn’t remember them.  
Anyway, I had never seen this guy before in my entire life.  
“Hello there? Are you okay?” his voice interrupted my thoughts again. I must have started staring at him, not that I needed to, I would never forget his face anyway.   
“Umm. Yes.”  
No.  
“What were you fucking doing on the middle of that street? Were you gonna kill yourself, because seriously, this car would have knocked you right off your feet if you stayed there any second longer!”  
I didn’t want this conversation. It was going nowhere. This guy knew nothing. He may had saved me today but he couldn’t do it the next time. I was just a waste of his time, I was just going to be another face somewhere lost inside his head. He shouldn’t have grabbed me. This whole thing just made me feel really uncomfortable.  
“Sorry, I need to go.” I muttered hastily, looking at the ground. “I need to do some grocery shopping…”  
“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem kind of out of yourself. Do you need to sit down? I know a really nice café down the street. Because, you know I don’t wanna sound mean, but you look like shit.”  
No. I’m not okay. And I don’t want to go into a café.  
But I didn’t say anything. For the first time of my life I felt curious. I wanted to know why this guy was so nice to me. Usually I was weirding people out. As much as I tried to stay out of their way they tried to do the same with me. I never had had friends, I was that typical guy out of movies who everybody was ignoring, but for me there wouldn’t be a happy end. This guy seemed nice. And maybe if I just kept staring at the floor I wouldn’t need to look at those people inside the café.  
Without really noticing I slightly nodded and the man immediately started smiling.  
“Awesome. By the way, my name is Mark.”  
I raised my eyes a little, I mean it wouldn’t make any difference now anymore, I had already seen his face and it’s not like it could be undone.  
He had craggy features, but most noticeably about his face were his eyes. I hadn’t noticed anything special about them before, but now it was like I couldn’t stop looking at them. They were so different to the rainy weather today, not grayish but a deep sparkling blue. It felt like they were an ocean and I was drowning in them.  
“Umm, do we wanna go, or…?” Mark was looking at me again, a weird look on his face. It was like he was half smiling but still looking kind of thoughtful, his eyebrows just raised a little.  
“Okay” my voice sounded a little stronger, but still not normal. If you listened close you could have probably heard my uncertainty.   
Mark started walking, I was following him a few steps behind. I wasn’t even trying to catch up with him, it was just preventing me from having to try doing awkward small talk.  
Mark had been right. The café was close. Closer than I had actually thought it would be.  
Mark stopped for a moment, searching for something in his pockets and after he found something that looked like some coins he bent down and put them in a really dirty mug, right in front of a homeless guy. He gave him a short smile and the guy smiled back, showing his toothless grin.  
And then it hit me. I had seen this guy before. You won’t believe me but this guy had been a teacher at my school. It must have happened when I was in 7th grade, there was this incident when a girl, I think she was in 9th grade back then, had spread the rumor that this one teacher, his name was Mr. Adams as far as I can remember, had been harassing her. The teacher got suspended and even half a year later when the girl admitted she had lied, the good reputation of this man had been destroyed. I had been wondering what had happened to him for a while after that, but I forgot about the whole thing soon. Now I got the answer. He had become a homeless man, sitting in front of a café on a rainy Saturday in the streets of San Diego with probably nothing to call his own but the clothes on his body and the woolen blanket that was wrapped around him to protect him from the cold. And of course the dirty coffee mug.  
There you have it. The tragic story of a man who had been punished for something he had never done. Most people would have never recognized him, he barely looked the same like he did back then. But I did, and I truly wish I didn’t.  
Averting my eyes from this broken man I went inside the café. The smell of fresh coffee filled my nose and the warmth and light of this building flooded my senses. Outside it was still raining, the drops of rain pattering against the windows. As soon as I had stepped into the café I had noticed how cold it has actually been. My hair must have been dripping, I hadn’t bothered pushing the hood deep into my face as I usually did. A shiver erupted my body, making it impossible not to look completely pathetic and weak. I riveted my look onto the ground and followed Mark through the café.   
“Where do you wanna sit?” He had turned around and I only lifted my head enough to see the questioning look on his face.  
“I don’t care.” I mumbled. He must have understood me though because he just shrugged, the weird look on his face again and motioning to a table in front of us.  
After we both sat down Mark remained quiet. Even if I didn’t look away from the dark brown wooden pattern of the table we were sitting at I knew he was looking at me. A little sad smile spread across my lips and a quiet snort escaped me. He probably thought I was weird, hell, he probably thought I was mentally ill, maybe even broken out of a nut house. Well, who wouldn’t think that. I was acting weird.   
A female voice broke the silence.   
“Hi guys, what would you like to order?” She sounded nice, it was a young voice and not one of those high pitched and terribly annoying voices you could find on TV on a daily basis. I didn’t dare to look at her though.  
“I’d like to have a cappuccino please.” Marks voice sounded calm and friendly. The concerned sound has faded and I found myself tracing the lines of something that looked like someone had tried to carve in a heart on the surface of the table.  
“And what can I bring for you?”  
I know she was talking with me. And I probably should have looked at her politely but I couldn’t bring myself to do that.  
“A coffee. Black.” I said and added a quick “Please” after Mark had given me his weird glance again.  
The waitress went off and we were alone again. Well, as alone as you can be in a café full of people. The chattering around me kind of made me feel brave enough to look up from the table. Mark was still looking at me. I knew he was feeling uncomfortable, I could see it. You could almost hear him trying to find the right words to start a conversation. When he opened his mouth I didn’t exactly expect him to say what he thought so directly.  
“So, why did you try to kill yourself?” His voice trailed off and he looked at me. He didn’t know my name. He didn’t know anything about me. He was direct though. That wasn’t basically the thing you should ask to start a conversation but at least he was being honest about what he thought.  
“Tom. My name is Tom.”  
“So, why did you try to kill yourself, Tom?” He tried to look encouraging but it failed a little.  
“I didn’t.”   
Liar.  
He wouldn’t understand it anyway. He couldn’t. By the looks on his face he didn’t believe me. But he didn’t ask any further questions and I was glad about it. The silence went on until our drinks came and after the waitress went away again I stared in my coffee. Looking deeply into the dark brown liquid I suddenly felt the urge to talk. It was weird, I usually didn’t talk much but Mark’s presence was calming. So I looked up again, looking straight at the man sitting opposite me.  
“It was nice of you giving that homeless guy money.”  
Surprised by my words Mark placed the coffee mug he had held on the table again, but his hands stayed there, being warm by the hot drink inside. He probably didn’t expect me to talk to him.  
“He was a teacher, a long time ago. He was in his thirties, maybe, when it happened.” And then I told him the story about the old man outside the café. “And he probably never found a job after that again.” I finished.  
Mark was staring at me now, frowning. Now he really must think I’m crazy. But instead of telling me how stupid the whole thing sounded he just said:  
“That’s sad.”  
The frown had disappeared. I really couldn’t tell if he was being honest or if he believed what I had told him a few minutes before. I wished he had though. I really did. I hadn’t told anybody something about a person I had remembered for years now, the last person I had told such a story was probably my sister. She had always made me feel like I didn’t sound completely crazy.  
After Mark had said that we both went quiet again. I drank my coffee, feeling it run down my throat and slowly warming me inside, the strong taste still on my tongue even when the empty cup was standing on the table in front of me. Mark had called for the waitress and we had paid, of course I still hadn’t looked at the waitress but I don’t think she cared anymore. We got up, eyes on the ground and ready to step go outside, facing the rainy afternoon weather again. But only this time I was the one who was walking ahead.  
And as I opened the door I came to a conclusion.  
Instead of turning right what would be the direction of my flat, I turned left, just to stop in front of the man who was still sitting there, wrapped in his blanket. I knelt down, not wanting to talk to him from above like I was something better but to look at him face to face.   
“I never thought you touched that girl in 9th grade, Mr. Adams.”  
The man’s head shot up, a painful sad expression on his face, but mostly you could sense the surprise and confusion. Mark had stopped a few steps away from us and I could hear him gasp.  
“Then you were the only one, young man.” Mr. Adam’s looked at me directly, a failed smile playing around his lips. He didn’t question me. He didn’t ask who I was. He didn’t ask why I knew what I knew. And I thanked him for that. Not many people would do that, most people were too curious to let things be as they are.   
“Here” I said as I hold out 10 dollar to him. He just kept looking at me but didn’t take the money immediately.  
“No, you have already done more for me than most people have. That’s enough.” He simply said, smiling a little more naturally now.  
“Take it anyway, you need it, and you know that.” I said as I got up on my feet again, just to bend down and put the money in the dirty mug that already contained the money Mark and probably some other people had given him out of pity. Eventually I put out my hand and he took it, shaking it strong and softly at the same time. As we let go I turned around, just to hear him say.  
“Goodbye, young man.”

I started walking back to the road where I had stood waiting for the end. I didn’t bother waiting for Mark, because I knew he would follow me. I wasn’t wrong, he caught up with me immediately and we walked side by side down the street.  
“You didn’t believe me” I said eventually.  
“I didn’t” Mark admitted. He looked ashamed. He had probably really thought I was insane. But I wasn’t.   
We had reached the place where I had been standing, at most an hour ago, and it still hadn’t stopped raining. I turned around to face him and looked him in the eyes.  
“There is too much tragic in this world as that we could handle it. We avoid it, we ignore it and we try to forget it. But sometimes you can’t forget. Sometimes you can’t forget something and it hunts you until you think it really won’t get better. In those situations other people would try to find something beautiful in those proceedings. They do it to bear the pain they would have to live through. They do it to make everything seem less awful and sad. They do it to find an excuse. But all of that doesn’t make it any better. Let me tell you one thing, and it‘s probably the only thing I know for sure:  
There is nothing such as beauty in tragedy.”  
Averting my eyes I turned to look at the street. The rain had almost stopped now and the clouds began to open up. A few rays of sunshine were highlighting the wet spots on the road, the dirty puddles of water sparkling a little. I looked up to the sky and my eyebrows furrowed as a sunray met my gaze. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath.   
Mark hadn’t said a single word since I had spoken. Slowly he seemed to regain his composure he had lost while I talked. Now he just stood there, resting his eyes on the scenery around us: a mildly busy street, the ground wet from rain and a few trees with fallen leaves underneath, a lonely bench on the left of us.  
“Maybe you can’t find beauty in tragedy but that doesn’t mean that there is no beauty at all in this world. Maybe it seems like an ugly place. Maybe it is an ugly place sometimes. But not always. Sometimes there are truly beautiful things happening around us and we maybe just don’t notice.”  
The sky opened up completely now, the single rays of sunlight melted in one big bright flash of warm light, I could feel it’s touch on my eyelids as I let Mark’s words sink in, inhaling each single one and processing what he had just said.  
Lies.  
All I had experienced in my whole life spoke against it. I wasn’t ready give up all of the theories, wisdom and thoughts I had thought about and built up in the past years. I wasn’t ready to give in just now. I always had seen everything in its terrible form. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know how to do it better. Nobody could truly understand me.   
But a part of me wanted to believe him. A part of me wanted to turn around and beg him to keep on talking, beg him to convince me that I had been wrong.  
Instead I opened my eyes and turned around just to find Mark smiling at me.  
“I need to go home now.” I looked at him, wondering what he would do next.   
“I’ll walk you. Just to make sure…”  
Just to make sure you don’t try to get run over by a car again.  
I knew he was just trying to be nice. Many people had tried to be nice to me, but in the end they had regretted it bitterly.  
Yet I knew Mark wouldn’t give in so easily and let me go alone. And also, I didn’t want him to give in. At least not that easily.  
“Alright.” I said simply.  
Mark grinned at me and waited for me to do the first step. He didn’t know where I lived so he needed to follow me, if he wanted to or not.  
We started walking back into the direction of the café. Weird how I had never noticed it before. Well if I think about it longer, it’s not weird. It’s not like I would care about things like that.  
As we passed the small building I waved at Mr. Adams again, he waved back. A warm feeling spread in my chest and I felt good. I soaked in the feeling, knowing it wouldn’t last long.  
Again in silence we reached the tall building where my flat was located. I stopped at the door, just to find Mark looking at me again. Maybe he thought I was just tricking him so he would go away and I could jump right in front of a car. I quickly pulled out my keys so he wouldn’t need to think that and this time I actually thought he had believed me. Maybe I was just paranoid.  
Uncertain I switched the keys from one hand to another. I sure wasn’t going to invite him in. There hadn’t been many people who had stepped foot in my apartment anyway.  
When I turned around Mark stood there, unsure and kind of lost. He seemed like he was expectant, like he was waiting for something. For a second I was wondering what he could be waiting for but a moment later I realized that he probably wanted me to thank him or at least say some nice words because he had saved my life. If you could call it saving. In the end it just made me stay longer in a world that already felt like hell itself.  
I wouldn’t thank him.  
He could stand there for an eternity, I just wouldn’t do it. Now you could think I’m a cold hearted person, but I’m not. I just didn’t feel thankful. If he had done me a favor I would have thanked him, but this way…  
“Goodbye” I said simply, turning around to unlock the door and disappear into the dark hallway. I didn’t do it immediately though, I kept waiting for a reaction and glanced at him over my shoulder.  
Mark kept standing there, looking a little disappointed. I thought it would have been enough now, that he would just walk away angrily and leave me alone but I was wrong. Instead he shot me another quick smile (how could he still be smiling, I was acting like a total asshole) and started speaking:   
“I wish we could have met under different circumstances. And even if we just met, promise me one thing: Don’t try to kill yourself again, okay.”   
He took my hand, shook it and walked away. Just like that.  
He didn’t even wait for me to answer him if I would keep the promise. I knew it hadn’t been a question, so Mark had probably thought there wasn’t a need to wait for a response.  
Somehow I felt a little sad. Even if this was what I had wanted in the end, it didn’t feel like a success. Even if it had only been that little part that hadn’t wanted him to give in that easily, it was still a part of me.   
Maybe he had really cared. Maybe I had made a big mistake.  
Nobody cares.  
Still, it would have been better if he had been angry and careless. Now he just left me here with a feeling of guilt.  
Lost in my thoughts I opened the door and stepped inside. It was cold in the hallway, not as cold as it had been outside but still cold enough. I walked down the hall just to walk up the stairs on the right side of it, leading to the first floor where my flat was located. I had always felt safer when I was closer to the ground. Originally I had planned to live in an apartment located at the down-floor but there hadn’t been a free one. I didn’t even know why I felt the urge to stay close to the ground, it was just another habit I had developed throughout the years.  
My flat was the first one in the hallway, on the right side of the stairs I had just come up. For a moment I thought I had left the keys stuck in the door outside, but after I searched my pockets thoroughly I found them. Still, I had felt a little moment of shock and it left me feeling uneasy.  
When the door to my apartment opened, it was dark inside. Even darker than the hallway I had passed on my way up here. Even if I had a big wall out of windows right in front of me it was dark, because I usually didn’t bother to open the shades more than half the way. They were protecting me from all the people with their faces and my memories, so why should I destroy this shield that was my only protection.  
I passed the room quickly, just to slump down on the big couch and burying my head in my hands. A deep sigh escaped my mouth, and I felt a headache building up. It had been a rough day. I could just hope a shower could make me feel alive again. Well, alive was probably the wrong word.   
Anyway, I stood up and shuffled in the direction of my bathroom door. On the way I grabbed some fresh clothes I hadn’t put back in their drawers yet and took off my shoes. In the overwhelming feeling of tiredness and exhaustion I had forgotten it when I first came in.  
When I finally stood in the shower I felt like all my memories of today were getting washed away together with the water that was streaming down my body. Only one thing stayed inside my head, it returned over and over and as much as I tried to think of something else it wouldn’t go away.  
I had made a mistake.  
Maybe Mark really could have helped me.  
You wish.  
I really did. I was tired of all the maybes and ifs and all those vague thoughts that darkened my mind, day in, day out.  
It’s too late.  
I had messed up and I couldn’t change it. It wasn’t the first time, but it always hurt. Giving away opportunities was never easy, it didn’t matter if you realized it before you gave them away or after you did it. It just mattered that you did it and that you would regret it. I hated regret. My whole life basically existed of regret and I just couldn’t stop regretting most of the things I still did.  
With those thoughts in my head I stepped out of the shower, dried my body and put on clothes again, but before I left I took a short glance in the mirror. It was steamy but I could still see the features of my face, the deep brown eyes and the strands of brown hair hanging into my face. I didn’t actually dislike my appearance, I just didn’t think it was special. My head snapped away and I hurriedly left the bathroom to settle down on the couch again. I wasn’t hungry, so I just laid down and turned on the TV, snapping through the channels and searching for a good movie. I found what I was looking for, something with aliens, it was a good distraction, and placed the remote on the floor. Soon I felt my eyes getting heavy and my thoughts trailed off…

 

When I woke up a small gap of sunshine came through the shades.   
For a second I thought I had overslept and was going to be late for work, but then I realized it was Sunday. It was only a stupid office job, but I got my money and didn’t need to work together with others. Nothing special, but I sort of liked it.  
After I had gotten up the first thing I did was making coffee. It was just this daily morning routine I had built up through the years, even if I hated the routine we were made to live through, I stuck to my own rules in a consisting manner.  
It seemed like it was going to be nice day, judging by the sunshine trying to invade through the pulled down shades, nothing like the weather yesterday.  
Yesterday. For a while I had actually forgotten about what had happened, which didn’t make it any better. The angry feeling suddenly returned and I felt sick. I needed to eat though, at least at little. A pop-tart had to be enough, otherwise I would probably have to puke.  
It happened when I had just finished brushing my teeth in the bathroom.  
The doorbell rang.  
I never had any people coming over. I took a quick look at the clock. 2.28 pm. I had slept really long I just realized now. Brushing my hand through my hair I walked over to the door and looked through the spyhole.   
It was Mark.  
How the hell did he get into the house? And how could he have found my flat in between all the others? He didn’t even know my whole name. But the biggest question obviously was what he was doing here.  
Unsure I looked through the spyhole again, not knowing if I should open or not. Yesterday and even today I had felt so angry that I had just let him walk away, but now that he was standing here I just didn’t know what I should do. All I knew was that I was feeling hopelessly confused.  
Still unsure I slowly opened the door. I was glad I had slept in my clothes, even if they were a little rumpled now.   
When the door swung open I could see his smile. He was always smiling. Why? Didn’t he see all those bad things surrounding us?  
“Hey Tom” he beamed at me, implying to step in. I didn’t move. My stare must have made him feel a little uneasy because he started shifting from foot to foot, maybe even appearing a little nervous.  
“Can I come in?” he asked, trying to look over my shoulder and catch a glimpse at my home. I didn’t respond but asked him curiously but still controlled:  
“How did you find me and how the fuck did you even get into the house?”  
“Oh,” he laughed for a moment before he continued, “this old lady let me in. She had done grocery shopping or something like that and saw me standing outside of your house. First she probably thought I was a burglar or something similar but I could convince her that I’m not going to steal anything, except some of your coffee maybe. Anyway she let me in and asked me who I wanted to visit and when I told her your name she didn’t recognized it immediately so I had to describe you and then she remembered and told me your last name as well, something with D, right? Yeah, she brought me up here. Such a nice old lady…” Mark trailed off and smiled a little, again.  
I had no clue which old lady he could mean because I usually didn’t talk with any people who lived here. I barely talked with anyone.  
“Come in” I said now and stepped back. I had made the decision even before Mark had started talking , hell, maybe already when I had seen him through the spyhole. I wasn’t going to refuse him that fast again, I mean, he came back to me after I had treated him badly. Maybe he liked me, in a weird way at least?  
Never.  
It was worth a try, though.  
Mark followed me inside, almost bumping against a small table near the door because it was still so dark in here, the shades effectively blocking out the sunlight.  
We walked over to the kitchen isle and I took out another cup out of the cupboard and filled it with the hot coffee, carefully trying not to spill it.  
“Sugar or milk?” I asked, not looking up from the counter.  
“Sugar, please.” I could practically hear the smile in his voice. I shoved the cup together with the glass full over sugar over the counter in his direction and he took it thankfully.   
“It’s DeLonge. My last name is DeLonge.” I looked at him now, just to be met with his piercing blue look of his eyes. It was then when I realized what made them so special: Even if they were such a deep blue color, almost an icy shade, they still were warm. There was nothing cold in them, not a single hint, just something nice and warm.  
Quickly I averted my eyes and turned my head to the pulled down shades. Marks gaze followed me and he smirked, I could see it out of the corner of my eyes.   
“Why are your shades pulled down?”  
He looked at me now, the question standing between us.  
Because they protect me. From the light, the faces, the whole world. Because I like being on my own. Because if I opened them I would have to see the poor daily life.  
Of course I didn’t say anything, I just shrugged.  
“I don’t know.”  
Liar.  
I knew it myself and Mark probably knew it too.  
“Can I open them, maybe?”  
I shrugged again, even if I wasn’t sure that I wanted it. It was too late now anyway, Mark had crossed the room by now and had already started pulling them up. With every tug the light flooded in a little more. You could literally feel the atmosphere changing, the whole room looked brighter, the sunlight reflecting from the pure white walls. It almost hurt my eyes.  
After Mark had finished he came walking up to me again.  
“Way better, isn’t it?” He gave me another smile. Maybe he was hoping I would smile back.  
“Mhm.” I mumbled, not sure how to respond.  
“Why don’t we sit down?” Mark asked, like it wasn’t mine but his home.  
“Okay” I agreed hastily and sat down in the armchair opposite the couch Mark was sitting on.  
For a while the only noises that could be heard were our breathing and occasional swallowing of our coffee. Eventually Mark began speaking again.  
“I thought a lot about our conversation yesterday.”  
I wasn’t sure which one he meant. The story of Mr. Adams or my “kind of emotional outburst”. I didn’t dare to ask though, but I didn’t need to because Mark kept on speaking and I understood what he had meant.  
“One thing had kept coming back, it was this one sentence you said. ‘There is nothing such as beauty in tragedy.’” He paused for a moment. “But what if there was? What if we’re just to blind to see it? What if we were walking past it every single day? In my opinion this is real tragedy.” He looked at me directly now and I gulped. “ It’s like your shades. Didn’t you see how the whole room changed when the sunlight flooded in? Sometimes we’re just too blind to see that even just a small action can change something dark into something bright and shiny. Something beautiful.”  
I leaned back. Marks words made sense. At least for a moment.  
Lies. Just lies.  
I frowned. All of this made my head spin.  
But Mark wasn’t finished.  
“I agree with you. There is tragedy around us. But that doesn’t mean you can’t change that. It’s just about the light you see it in.”  
I agree with you. He said he agreed with me.  
Even if his words didn’t make perfect sense to me by now I knew he wasn’t completely wrong. But there still were doubts.  
“But what if you have never known something good? What if you never knew how to see something in a good light? What if…” I broke off, my voice sounding dangerously weak.  
“It’s never too late to open your eyes.”  
A warm feeling spread inside me.  
And then, finally I started to take in the whole meaning of Marks words. I looked at the young man in front of me and I smiled. I truly smiled. He smiled back, his eyes gleaming with something I had never seen before. I liked it.  
Just lies.  
My guts trembled at this thought. Anxiously I looked at him, the smile on my face fading and being replaced by a grimace.  
“What is wrong, Tom?” He had noticed it. He cared.  
Shut up.  
But I couldn’t answer, I didn’t know what to say. All that was on my mind was one single question.  
“Why did you come back?”  
I started sweating, my body feeling hot and cold at the same time, my stomach twisting painfully as I waited for the answer.  
“I was worried about you.”  
That was it. But it was enough, probably more than I could have ever asked for. The warm feeling came back, replacing the bad ones I dreaded so much. My face relaxed again and my whole body fell back into the armchair. I looked at the watch on the wall, it was quarter past four already. The time had flown by, I had barely noticed it. Mark must have looked at the clock too, suddenly jumping up and cursing heavily.  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” he cursed. “Shit!”  
“What’s wrong?” This time it was my turn to ask.  
“I have an appointment at half past four at like, the other side of town.”  
“Shit, that’s nearly impossible.” I knew what I was talking about. My workplace was on the other side of town and I had experienced coming late because I had overslept quite a lot. Therefore I knew how hard it was to get there in time.  
“I need to go.” Mark looked at me apologetically.  
“It’s okay”, I said, even if I didn’t know if I meant it. I stood up and gave him his jacket he had placed on the kitchen counter since I didn’t show him where to put it. I came up to the door where he was already waiting. For a moment I didn’t know what to do but Mark took the initiative.  
“I hope to see you soon, Tom DeLonge!” he said and I already had almost closed the door behind him as he said:  
“By the way, my last name is Hoppus.” He smiled at me for a last time and then I shut the door behind him.  
When the door was closed I breathed in deeply. A sigh escaped my lips and I leaned against the door. Mark had been really nice. And he had said ‘I hope to see you soon’. That meant he wanted to see me again, right? Like a real friend?  
Just Drea-  
I shut down the inner voice. I didn’t need that right now and I sure didn’t want to hear it. I needed the good feeling to last as long as possible.

Since it was getting late I decided to take a shower. I just loved the feeling of the hot water running down my body. And when I looked in the mirror that day I didn’t feel that averagely anymore.  
Before I went to bed I quickly cooked some pasta because I hadn’t eaten since yesterday except that one pop-tart and I was extremely hungry by now, I was basically starving.  
I pulled down the shades before going to bed, it had gotten dark and I didn’t like the thought of people being able to look into my flat, because it was brighter inside than outside. Besides I couldn’t sleep when it was bright outside and since it was spring and the days became longer and the nights shorter it would be getting light pretty early. The light would just be another distraction, together with my thoughts.  
When I finally laid down in my bed it didn’t take long until I slept in.

The alarm clock went off at exactly 6.45 am. I got up immediately, not wasting time with laying in bed longer than I should. My first way was the way to the toilet and then into the living room with the attached kitchen. I knew what I had to do.  
Without hesitation I walked over to the wall of windows and pulled up the blinds with strong tugs.  
Maybe Mark was right and I needed to let some light in my life.  
Maybe I just needed to open my eyes.


	2. Pt. 2 - The Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this.

Pt. 2 – The Rise

Mark had come and visited me again the next day. And the day after that. And even after that he kept coming back. We would always drink coffee together and talk about our different views on everything. At some point we became really close friends, I guess. At least that’s what I would call friendship. I had never had that many friends though, but this just felt like it. He was giving me a different view on life and after some time I think I actually think I started to understand his way of seeing the world. And he probably started to understand me.  
Months of meeting went by and we learnt a lot about each other. I actually found out his age, he was 27, 4 years older than I was. His birthday was the 15th of March, it was actually the day Caesar died, I told him. I had had latin in school, I had always thought it was interesting. He said that it was cool that I knew things like that and I was kinda proud.  
Anyway, I didn’t just learn those things about him.  
I also noticed the look in his eyes when he talked about music. I registered the way his voice dropped even a little lower when he talked about something serious. I found out how to make him laugh.  
As I said before, we really got to know each other. I think he learned a lot about me too. He had learned how to talk to me when I was at the trip of hating the world again. He understood that he didn’t need to be sad or angry if I was mean to him because I just couldn’t control myself or get over my ego.  
He came to understand that I wasn’t like everybody else.  
But some days when he didn’t come over I grew anxious again. Even if I secretly knew he was going to come back I never could help but feel restless. Of course I knew he couldn’t visit me every day, it was impossible, I mean we were both working. Still, I always got this horrible feeling building up inside me when he didn’t show up. On the weekends I would restlessly wait for him to show up, not that I would be going anywhere anyway, but it was just this feeling I couldn’t shake off, even if I tried.  
We had always stayed inside, protected by safe walls and doors. It must have been in August when Mark had informed that he was thinking of changing that.  
When he came in that day it was like every other day he came over. We sat down, drank our coffee, talked about the world. It was then when he told me what he had been thinking about lately.  
“Why don’t we go outside sometime, Tom? You’re looking so pale, I’m sure some fresh air would be good for you.”  
No.  
I think somewhere deep inside me I had known this day would come. Yet I wasn’t feeling ready for it to actually happen.  
“Look outside, Tom. The weather is awesome and it won’t be that good anymore pretty soon. I suggest we should go to the park someday. Wait, why not now, actually?” His voice sounded so enthusiastic. What kind of creature would I have needed to be to say no to him?  
Don’t.  
But on the other side, who was he to expose me to a situation like this? Shouldn’t he know how much I dreaded the thought of going outside?  
He simply couldn’t. I had never told him about my gift. My curse.  
Now you would think I wouldn’t trust him, but I did. It just wasn’t that easy. How do you think would most people react to it? Right, they would say I’m crazy, insane, whatever you’d like to call it. Well, I told him the story about Mr. Adams. But that wasn’t too unrealistic that someone else could have remembered him as well, I mean it wasn’t that long ago (long enough though, trust me) and he had changed and all, but it wasn’t impossible. I had seen him almost daily in the hall, even if he wasn’t my teacher, but it was still realistic for someone normal to remember him.  
But I had been on the brink of telling him many times. I just wasn’t able to do it. The words had lasted on my tongue, waiting to be told, it was like I could almost taste them, their bittersweet taste numbing my mouth, not letting the words out. Some days I hated myself for that. Some days I wondered if it would actually be easier if someone else knew and maybe even understood.  
Nobody will ever understand.  
But that didn’t matter now anyway, well, it did, but what was way more important right now was the question Mark had asked me.  
I honestly didn’t want to go outside but what could I have said as an excuse without unrevealing my secret?  
“So?” Mark looked at me curiously. I hadn’t answered him yet and he wasn’t the most patient guy on earth, another thing I had learnt about him. I was actually thinking of not saying anything at all but I knew he would just keep on bugging me with the question. I felt a little sorry for myself. I didn’t really have an option, did I?  
“Okay.” I mumbled, sighing deeply. Mark gave me his weird look and I felt myself smiling a little. I liked the fact that he still did that. I kind of liked to think that he would just look at me that way.  
I got up slowly, smoothing down my shirt. I looked down my body. I had to admit that I was really pale. I was wearing shorts because, fuck, it was hot, but they actually showed off my unbelievably untanned legs. Not that any body part of me was tanned. It just looked kind of funny how light my legs looked compared to the black shorts.  
Mark was walking towards the door already, humming a song that sounded kind of familiar to me, but I couldn’t tell which one it was. I followed him, my knees feeling a little weak.  
I was going to do this, I knew I could do it if I wanted. It’s not like I had never been outside, obviously I had been, I mean I needed to do the shopping and shit like that like normal people need to, but I wasn’t the guy to go to parks in on a weekend with perfect weather and a high chance of a ton of being there.  
With these thoughts I stepped out of the door behind Mark, closing the door quietly. I grabbed my keys and we started walking down the stairs, through the hall and then we were outside, leaving the musty smell of the building behind us.  
It was like walking against a wall, the heat just kinda crushed against us and it made me feel a little dizzy. My head spun and I was wondering if shouldn’t just walk right back inside again, but Mark already dragged me down the road.  
“I know a park that’s pretty close.” He said. Of course I knew this park as well, I mean it was basically just 5 minutes from where I lived. Not that I’ve been there before. I just knew it was there. I just nodded, keeping my mouth closed. I didn’t feel like talking.  
As we were walking down the road and towards the park I started to actually enjoy the sunlight. I liked the touch of it on my skin, warming it, almost burning but still pleasant. I never said I didn’t like the sun. I just didn’t like the things that came along with it, things like masses of people, bugs and sunburns. Anyway, I started to feel relaxed and this was a really good sign, right?  
When we arrived at the park it got a bit cooler. The trees were blocking off the sun with their bright green leaves in all their different shapes. It was still hot, but it was more passable heat. We kept on walking, enjoying the silence around us. The park wasn’t as busy as I thought it would be.  
Eventually we reached a playground with some kids playing around. Their voices weren’t annoying though and when Mark asked me if we should sit down on one of the nearby benches for a while and I agreed. We made our way over to one a little bit further away from the yelling kids though, sitting down next to each other. I had held down my head for almost the half of the walk to the park but at some point I just thought I should give it a shot to actually look at my surroundings. When I looked around I saw the kids playing peacefully with their parents standing next to them, some empty benches and tables and a woman sitting close to us. First I couldn’t see her properly but once I tried harder I had a quiet good view on her.  
I wished I hadn’t tried though. And I wished I hadn’t gone outside too.  
I had seen this woman before. It had to be about 2 or 3 years ago, it was at the mall. But back then she hadn’t been alone. She had been there with her little daughter. Shifting a bit I tried to get a better look at the playground, searching for her daughter almost frantically. And even if I couldn’t see that perfect in such a big distance I knew she wasn’t there. It was then when I looked at the woman again, registering the sad look on her face, it had something nostalgic about it. A terrible thought started building up in me, growing a shape and making me feel sick, so sick.  
Mark had noticed my actions to get a better view, so he had noticed my disturbance but hadn’t commented it yet. I knew he was giving me time to prepare my words and organize my thoughts and truly I adored him for that. So when I was ready he wasn’t really surprised and knew this wouldn’t be a normal conversation about the weather.  
“Do you see that woman over there? The one who’s sitting alone on that bench right there?” I pointed to her but not too obvious, I wasn’t that much of an asshole. “I’ve seen her before. But only the last time I saw her with her daughter. But she’s not here, Mark. Her daughter is not here anymore. I… I think she’s dead, Mark.”  
I spoke quietly but I knew Mark understood my words. I just hoped he wouldn’t think I’m a total creep. I wasn’t finished, so I continued talking after a short break of gathering my thoughts again. “Do you see the sad look on her face? She’s hurt, so deeply hurt. Her daughter was about 5, or 6 maybe, I can’t remember clearly. But now she’s not here and her mother is sitting at this playground watching the kids play where her daughter probably used to play, Mark.” I closed my eyes and leaned back.  
“This is true tragedy. This is why I had lost hope in almost everything Mark. I went outside today to see the beauty in this world but all I got was another reason for me to avoid the world.”  
I opened my eyes again and I caught Mark looking at me. His eyes were sad, so sad.  
Oddly enough I thought his eyes weren’t that sad because of the woman. I actually thought he was sad because of me, sad for me.  
What did I do wrong now? Had I destroyed everything? Had I convinced him that I was a total mess now? Was this whole friendship going to be over soon?  
“I don’t think it was the wrong decision to come here today, Tom. I actually think it was the perfect day to show you the beauty of this world.”  
He turned around, away from me but into the direction of the woman, gesturing me to look at her as well.  
“Don’t you see it, Tom?” he asked me, a hint of excitement in his voice.  
“What?” I frowned, not knowing what he was talking about.  
“You really don’t see it, Tom, don’t you? She is pregnant, Tom.”  
When I looked at her again I could see it. I could see the curve of her belly, carrying a little human inside her, protecting it from the world outside. Just like my walls protected me, but so much more intimate.  
I must have been blind. I mean, I looked at her and didn’t notice. It was almost obvious.  
“You know, when I looked at that woman it was the first thing I noticed. I saw her as mother-to-be, only after that I saw the sad look on her face. I thought her husband or boyfriend or whatever had left her pregnant, anyway that’s not the point. The point is that I see things differently when I look at them. When I look at something for the first time I try to find something good in it, ignoring the bad surroundings and affects at first. And I think that’s the difference between us. While I try to find the good things, you always look out for the bad things first. It’s like you tend to see the tragedy you’re always talking about, like you are just blind for the beauty.”  
It hurt. I hurt to hear those words because I know they were true. And sadly, the truth hurt sometimes.  
“Well, I don’t say it’s easy to notice it at first, but it’s not impossible. It only becomes impossible when you give up trying.”  
“You know, it’s not like I want that. Do you know that? Because I’m not sure if you do.” My voice sounded angrier than I wanted it to be but I couldn’t help it. “Do you think this what I want? Do you think I like to see the world in the worst kind of way?”  
“Tom…” he tried to calm me but it was hopeless, because I actually felt good letting out the things I felt.  
“I don’t think you do. I don’t think you are even capable of understanding me because this fucking shit is awfully complex. I hate the way I see everything and I would give everything to change that. It’s just not that easy. It’s hard actually.”  
“I’m sorry, Tom. I didn’t want to…”  
“You don’t have to be.” Honestly, he didn’t have to. I knew he was right, but I wasn’t wrong either. I sighed before continuing my somewhat-speech.  
“I know you’re right. And I honestly appreciate your words and you’ve helped me a lot. But there are some things you just don’t understand.”  
“Explain them to me them.” His eyes were focusing on me.  
“I can’t.”  
At least not yet.  
But I wished I could. And maybe now would have been a great opportunity to tell him the truth about me. Not that I had lied to him before, he had just never asked about it, obviously.  
When I looked at him again I noticed a small spider crawling up his leg. For a moment I considered telling him about the spider but then a realization hit me.  
Maybe he was better off not knowing.  
And I didn’t just mean the spider. I meant the whole “remembering” thing as well.  
If I wouldn’t tell him about the spider he wouldn’t be scared and freak out because he just didn’t know. But if I told him, how could I know how he would react? What if he had Arachnophobia and spiders scared the living shit out of him. Obviously he wouldn’t get a phobia because of me, he could develop one though, but let’s face it, that’s kinda surreal.  
Anyway, how could I know what his reaction would be like?  
I continued watching the spider until it walked down his left leg, disappearing into the shadows. And together with the spider my courage disappeared as well. I was no longer ready to open up, at least not today.  
We kept silent for a while. Mark hadn’t said anything after our intense conversation. I just hoped I hadn’t angered him too much. Eventually I started becoming bored and felt the urge to say, even when the words were almost the opposite of the meaning behind them.  
“Nunc tempus tacendi venit.”  
I shut my mouth immediately, wondering what he would respond. Curiously eyeing me, Mark didn’t take long to say something.  
“What does that mean?”  
“Now the time to keep silent has come.”  
“That’s inspirational.” He just said.  
I think he didn’t quiet understood what I had meant, so I felt like explaining.  
“You know what? I actually think it’s beautiful. If you can enjoy time with someone without feeling awkward while not talking and saying anything it’s just something precious. But also it means that you sometimes need to keep quiet because maybe it’s the best decision in some kind of situation.” After a short pause I added. “I like keeping silent with you.”  
“And I like to hear you talk, still I like our silence at least as much as I like listening to your words.”  
I didn’t know what to say, so we just kept quiet again, knowing that not one of us felt awkward and it was relieving not to frantically search for words to keep a conversation going. He had never done that with Mark anyway, well maybe except the day they met, but that didn’t really count. It was just good to know that Mark thought about it the same way.  
At some point we decided to leave. As we were walking past the woman we both gave her a warm smile and she smiled back. She still looked sad, but there was something else.  
I think it was anticipation.

 

After that day we went outside more often. With I each time I grew more confident, like about which places we went to, the time we went outside and the days. Most days I chose to go to quieter places though, it was rarely a crowded one. Parks and places outside the city were the things I preferred but we also went to the mall or the cinema some days. I’d never gone there a lot on my own, except when I really needed to, like buying food and clothes, but together with Mark it was so much better.  
I even started looking at people again.  
Of course I remembered most of them but I was mostly surprised by the fact that not all of them ended up badly.  
You might laugh, but that was what I had expected. It was all I had known for the longest part of my life, so it wasn’t too easy to understand what was going on. And even if I didn’t understand why it wasn’t that bad, I didn’t complain. It was quite the opposite actually, I liked seeing the people who had used to be happy and still were. It made me think that everything wasn’t too bad.

It was about a month after we had went to the park for the first time when Mark and I decided to go to the café again where we had went to the day we had met. But that day we wanted to do something. The idea had come up when we were talking about Mr. Adams some evening and I thought it would be nice to maybe help him a little. It wasn’t much, but it was something.  
As we walked down the street towards the café Mark and I didn’t talk much. I had hung the bag that contained what we needed over my shoulder. When we reached the café we already saw Mr. Adams outside and when he saw us coming near he gave us his toothless smile. So instead of going straight into the café we walked over to him and knelt down, just like I had done the first time. I grabbed the bag I had carried with me and revealed what was inside. It was a new warm blanket, woolen too, but not filthy and torn apart but clean and complete and a beanie I had lying around because everybody told me it didn’t suit me. We also had brought a new mug, nothing special, but it was still better than the dirty one.  
Our plan had been giving those things to Mr. Adams to make his life a little bit better. We both had felt extremely sorry for him, so we thought it would be nice to try and make him smile a little, so we had decided to bring him a new blanket, a hat and a new coffee mug. Again, it was nothing special, but it was the thought that counted, and I really think that Mr. Adams appreciated it anyway. Because the smile he gave us when he understood what we were doing was so heartwarming, almost hurting. It wasn’t bad, it was actually a really good feeling.  
“Thank you very much. Not many people would have done this and I honestly think you are both really good guys.” He also wished us a nice day and kept smiling, even as we went inside.  
As we were sitting inside, it was the same table as the first time by the way, we were both in a really good mood.  
And when the waitress came I actually looked at her.  
I knew it was the same as before, I recognized her voice, the voice that hadn’t been too high but pretty, just as pretty as the face behind it. The woman was young, no wrinkles on her face, not even ones on her forehead, no marks of frowning to often or thinking to deep, just dimples, making her seem natural and so very much alive.  
I had seen her before, about 4 or 5 years ago, but this time it wasn’t a horrible experience, because she hadn’t changed much. Nothing bad had happened, well maybe it had, but nothing that would show off. Anyway, I’m actually glad I looked at her that day, because I learned something important.  
Not everything has to turn bad. Some things stay the same and that’s totally okay.  
She seemed to recognize both of us too and she smiled when she noticed that I wasn’t behaving as weird as I had before. I must have appeared like a total asshole, or someone who was nuts. Anyway, now she was smiling at us and everything was fine. We ordered our coffee and she went over to another table, so Mark and I were alone again. He looked out of the window for a while, it was nice outside, but it was getting a little colder and the nights actually started to become really freezing cold.  
“I’m glad that we gave Mr. Adams the blanket and the cup. It’s freezing outside during the nights.” I smiled down at the table, examining the same wooden patterns that I had studied that one time a few months ago. It hadn’t changed as well, obviously, but still, it was really calming to see things staying the same. There was also the carved in heart, and this time I didn’t think it was that misplaced anymore. This time it was just that one sign of someone who wanted to show his love to someone else, and seriously, what was so wrong about that?  
And those little things were the things that made me realize that I had changed. I hadn’t stayed the same, from the outside maybe, but not on the inside. I had become more open to the world and accepted a lot of the things that were happening. I didn’t try to find the worst in everything anymore.  
I had opened my eyes.  
Just like Mark had told me.  
And what I saw was good.  
The waitress came back, maneuvering the tablet on her arm and placing it carefully on the table. I had always wondered how people could do that. Like, they carried tons of plates and everything on one single arm and it didn’t fall down and break into millions of pieces. It was like gravity didn’t exist for this kind of people. Each and every time I saw people doing this I couldn’t help but be impressed. It was just that I could never do that. It seemed impossible.  
Well, on the other hand, most people couldn’t do what I could do. Remembering everyone. Almost everybody would say that that was impossible, but it wasn’t, I was the living proof.  
So yeah, just because I couldn’t do it didn’t mean other people couldn’t do it.  
When the young woman had placed our steaming cups in front of us Mark actually looked at me again.  
“Yeah, I think it was the right thing. Did you see how happy he was? He’s probably really gonna need the blanket soon.”  
I smiled at him as he sipped at his coffee and made a grimace like he had burned his tongue.  
“Fuck, this coffee is damn hot.” He cursed and laughed at himself for being so impatient and not waiting until it had cooled down a little. It was a relaxed atmosphere and I enjoyed every single bit of it.  
“You know, it’s great that we actually started going outside. It makes everything so much more colorful and alive. Like, don’t be mad, but you’re pure white walls in your flat are kinda boring, I don’t know, but I think we should paint the walls maybe? Or at least put some paintings or pictures on the wall.”  
I knew he was right but I was still a little offended. I mean he had just said my flat looked boring. I agreed though. Maybe a little color would help making it more friendly. I mean actually opening my shades every morning (I still did that) had made it look better already but a little bit of color could help, right?  
“That’s a good idea.” I just said and Mark immediately started babbling something about different shades and colors and what would look good and something about contrasts etc. I mean, he knew what he was talking about.  
He was a graphic designer for a magazine, he had to know how colors and shapes and everything worked. It was his job. He had told me about his job one time while we had been sitting in my living room. He had asked me what I was doing for a living and told him about my crappy office job which wasn’t that crappy at all, but then I had asked him and he told me he was a graphic designer, which was obviously way cooler than what I did to earn money.  
“You should get something with red, or wait, no, maybe green? A light green… Oh yes.” He said more to himself than to me actually.  
“Umm, I really like blue…” I interposed shyly. It was true though, blue had been my favorite color ever since I could remember.  
“Oh yes, blue is perfect. The color of infinity and it’s a calming color, symbolizing emotions such as cheerfulness. But at the same time it represents coldness and lies. And the truth as well. Isn’t it weird how one simple color can symbolize both lies and truth?” Mark looked at me and smiled. He was actually really good with this color shit.  
As he continued talking about different shades and things like that I just trailed off. I didn’t listen to his words but kept watching him as he gestured wildly with his hands. Had I ever told you about his hands? Never? His hands were really strong, and his fingertips were calloused from playing bass in his free time. Another thing he had told me in my flat. Anyway, his hands were just kind of hypnotizing, the way they moved so elegantly, I just wanted to grab them and never let go.  
I kept staring and at some point I had even forgotten to keep drinking my coffee, which was cold by now. He was just so interesting to watch, I could have done that forever.  
Sadly, Mark interrupted me.  
“So, when are we gonna buy the color for your walls? I suggest tomorrow.” He seemed so happy about it, I couldn’t say no. I mean this change came pretty fast but in his excitement Mark just seemed so happy and the sooner we did this there wouldn’t be much time for me to change my mind, right?

So the next day we went wall paint shopping. It was funny because Mark ran around the aisles with buckets of paint like a little child, looking for the right colors he had imagined. Earlier that day, it was a Saturday, he had told me about his plan to paint one wall blue, a light blue though, and the three others beige. I had agreed, because it sure would look good when the sun would shine on it. We went searching for the right colors and decided together which ones would work best together. I had never done something like that before, something that spontaneous, but I liked it. Because when we had paid for everything (we also needed paint brushes and cover sheeting) we rushed over to my flat and started painting my walls and filling the room with color. Luckily I had pushed all the furniture into the middle of the room yesterday already, so we just needed to cover the floor and the furniture with the cover sheeting. And then we started. Some people would have called it more a mess than actually painting walls. Our clothes were splattered and I was sure the stains would never get washed out. I didn’t care, though. It was just fun to do it.  
As we had finished our work we looked at it. You could basically feel how the atmosphere had changed. Everything looked warmer, more welcoming. It was like it wasn’t even the same room anymore, like I was somewhere else.  
“The colors match perfectly.” I could almost hear the smile in Mark’s voice.  
“It looks awesome” was everything I could say.  
“We did a great job.” He replied, looking at me.  
He had said that we had done a great job. Like, we had done something together, like we had achieved something.  
We.  
Us.  
It sounded so right. It sounded like we belonged to each other.  
A warm feeling spread inside me, leaving me standing there and filling every inch of my body, absorbing the smell of the paint fume like a drug that was blurring my mind and I found myself smiling. I looked at Mark, all the warmth from inside of me in my voice:  
“Yes. We did.”


	3. Pt. 3 - The Fall

Pt. 3 – The Fall  
Fall came and the leaves plastered the ground, covering the streets with their colorful dying corpses. But the leaves weren’t the only thing that had fallen, no, but together with them I had fallen in love.  
I had fallen in love with Mark.  
Wasn’t it weird how people always said the leaves were so beautiful in autumn with their bright red, orange, yellow and brown colors, when they were basically dying?  
I understood it though, it did look beautiful. But still, what about the leaves when they were still green? What about the leaves when they were still alive, bursting from freshness and strength? Nobody gave them as much attention as when they started to rot away. It was basically the same thing with us humans. When we’re still alive nobody pays much attention but when you start to die, let it be psychologically or physically, everybody suddenly starts to care.  
In my opinion this is complete bullshit.   
In the past few months I had learnt that things are good when you’re alive. Things can be good, even if you need a little help to get started seeing the world differently.  
Just like trees, sometimes they need a little bit of fertilizer together with the natural rain to start growing and staying alive. Staying beautiful.  
So in the past months Mark had turned out to be the fertilizer for me and his words were the rain, showering me with the things I needed to keep myself alive and not to return to my old habits.  
Sometimes I wondered if he ever expected to get something back, I wondered if he ever wanted something back. Something for everything he had given me, something for everything I had taken.  
I guess that was just how he and I worked together, giving and taking.

At some point I gave him the key to my flat. He was the only one who had one except me of course. I had never given one to the neighbors, being too scared that I’d have to actually look at them. It was just another thing that showed my trust in him and he knew that. He had been surprised when I had given it to him. His smile hadn’t disappeared that day.  
So, as I said before, I had fallen in love with him. It wasn’t this girly “I love your till the end of time, you’re my dream guy blah blah blah “, it was something way deeper, settling its roots deep inside my mind.  
It wasn’t like I had loved him since the beginning. It just kind of grew on me. It was the way he moved his hands, the way he talked, the way he thought. It was the way he showed me his insides, his thoughts and theories. It was the way he showed me how to live.  
He had showed me how to live because I hadn’t known how to do it.  
I had existed.  
I hadn’t lived. Not until I met Mark. Because when I met him I learned that there was a big difference between your pure existence in this world and living. Living meant feeling. And feeling meant both good and bad things.

He would have asked me if I had a girlfriend several times by now. I always said no. I mean I didn’t have a girlfriend.  
But it wasn’t because I was too ugly (I actually had started to kind of like, well let’s say accept, my appearance) or too lame (I was still weird though) or that I didn’t want a relationship.  
It was simply because I’m gay.  
I had found out in high school, when everybody of my guy friends had a girlfriend except me. Some girls had liked me and I had made out with some but it didn’t feel quite right. I still thought that woman were attractive but just not that way. So, I still took a girl out to prom but more because of firstly not wanting to go alone and secondly I didn’t want to ask a boy because I was scared of the possible rejection. I rather had taken out a guy though.  
After high school I had some relationships but they didn’t last long. The reasons of the break ups were basically the same every time. Mostly it was my fear of trusting someone completely in order to accidentally blurt out my thoughts, emotions and most importantly, my secret. Not going outside often didn’t help either.  
Fortunately it was different with Mark. I mean I didn’t really believe he was gay as well, I just hoped it. There weren’t those issues about trust and shit like that, so it would have been different, it was something true, something honest. And like I said before, I really didn’t think he felt the same way, not about the trust thing but about like the whole love situation.  
Still, I couldn’t help but getting my hopes every time we touched, even if it was accidentally His touch would always leave that tingling feeling that I would be dreaming about at night, imagining his touch on my body over and over, seeing his smile in my sleep every single time I went to bed.

Since it was fall the days were getting shorter, the coldness creeping through the walls. The sky became grey, almost nothing was left of the once bright blue sky, everything was just grey rain clouds that didn’t let the sun through, just like my blinds hadn’t.   
Speaking of blinds, my room looked so much friendlier now. Mark had even brought me some paintings to put on the bare walls since I had refused to accept his offer of him printing out pictures for my wall at his work place.  
I just liked drawings better. Photos just froze a moment, capturing how it really was, while drawings left room for your own interpretations.  
I could clearly remember a conversation with my grandfather. He had always been a wise man, giving useful advice and not that crap most people basically vomited.  
So, one day he had told me about one of his “secrets of life”. He would have always called them like that because he believed that they were the unspoken laws of the world we live in, the rules that we complied.  
One day, many, many summers ago, we had sat down at the back of our garden, hiding from the bright sun in the dark shadows that the trees were casting. He would have asked me if I “wanted to learn something about the secrets that made our world work like it did” first and I would have nodded eagerly, because I already knew that I would soak every word up like a sponge. Anyway he would start explaining me his theories and I would listen, thinking about every word he said twice.  
That particular day he told me why people couldn’t enjoy the present but just miss the past or await the future:  
“Well, Tom, us humans just can’t really enjoy the present. All we do is mourn the past, we wail and we cling to our memories. Or we just think about the future, how everything would get better. It’s good to dream, I would almost say it’s necessary to stay sane, but what about now? We never think about the present that way. Everybody wants something else and not what they have right now. But believe me, Tom, you can only be truly happy when you learn to cherish the present.”  
I had always believed him, his little secrets being the basis of my own theories and views.  
So, why would I want frozen moments, frozen memories, on my wall when they would just make me think about the past? My past wasn’t something I wanted to be remembered of when I looked at my walls. Not everything had been bad, I had to admit that, but there were still too many things I’d rather forget. Like the faces. But I knew I could never forget them.  
This, here, right now was where I wanted to be. And I think I somehow started to understand what my grandpa had meant with “You can only be truly happy when you learn to cherish the present.”

With time Mark and I went out more often.  
I started calling it going out and not going outside anymore, mostly because I liked the thought of Mark going out with me, like as a date. I knew it wasn’t one, but my stupid little mind liked to think of it as one. And I didn’t mean going to the park or to that small café down the street. I meant actually going to a pub or even a disco.  
First I had refused. Everything had been going too fast and I didn’t feel like I was ready, because that would have meant crowded places. Mark had suggested going to a small gig in one of the clubs then, and since we liked the same kind of music it was really hard to resist, together with the look in his eyes it became impossible, so I eventually gave in. After that night, the gig had turned out to be pretty rad and if you just concentrated on the band you didn’t notice the people around you that much (except the shoving though), and I decided to give it a try and we would start going to a bar in the city centre. Mark had suggested it to me as well, he knew the owner I think. He had told me his name once but I wasn’t quite sure what it was, Barker, I think.  
Anyway we went there about every second weekend. At first it was really weird for me because Mark obviously knew the people there, I suppose he has a lot of friends, and he always introduced me to someone new. Well, some people were new. Most of them I had seen before, in a mall, on a street, on the bus. There were lots of them and I was glad nobody seemed to be in a bad condition. Throughout the last months I had seen so many people who I had seen before and hadn’t ended up bad. Still, it was a relief every time I saw another man or woman who hadn’t fallen.  
So occasionally we would go the bar and maybe drink a little. It was never a serious problem because we both tried not to get too drunk. We had different reasons though. My problem with alcohol was that it made me talk. Like, really talk. I’d talk about everything, for hours. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem but firstly, if I got too drunk the chances of telling Mark that I was in love with him were incredibly high and I obviously couldn’t risk that, and secondly there would be the possibility of telling someone the truth about me, my ability, my secret.  
So far I knew Mark’s problem of getting too drunk was that he would be getting to affectionate. Like extremely affectionate, like he had said. I had never experienced it though. I mean maybe it was better that way. Who could have thought what had happened if we both had too much alcohol? This was something I’d rather not think about.  
But of course nothing could stay the way it was. It never stayed the same.  
So one day we both got a little more drunk than usual. It wasn’t like we had wanted, it was more like an accident.  
Well, the whole thing started when some of Mark’s friends convinced us to try this new drink one of the barkeepers had invented. It didn’t taste bad so that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it tasted nothing like alcohol. And because it didn’t we didn’t ask how much alcohol actually was in it. We found out rather soon anyway.   
So, after a couple of glasses of this special drink we were both sort of drunk. At this point we didn’t care about the contents of our drinks anymore anyway, so everything kinda got out of hand. In the end we both ended up completely drunk and would have stayed at the bar the whole night if no one hadn’t called us a taxi, but Travis, the owner of the bar was a good guy (he probably didn’t want us to puke on his furniture too) and called us one. He even waited outside the bar with us until the cab arrived and helped us get inside. Today I think he even paid for us because I can’t remember doing it, and Mark was way too occupied with clutching to me.   
And that’s how we ended up at Mark’s place. That Travis guy must have told the driver to drop us off there, obviously not knowing where I lived so he told him Marks address.  
Even in my drunk state I got excited. I would see Marks house for the first time. He had told me where he lived and I had often thought about visiting him but I’d never done it for real. This was just not how our relationship had worked. I was either going out or staying at my flat.  
This was something entirely new.   
While I was inspecting Mark’s house from the outside he fumbled with the keys and tried to figure out which one would be the right one. Eventually he found out and we could go inside.  
I didn’t know what I had expected. I mean, I didn’t know if I had even expected something. Well, if I had, this wasn’t it.  
Mark’s house was mostly bare white walls. That was the first weird thing. I mean he had wanted me to paint my walls while his stayed blank. Something wasn’t right about that. Well, there was a difference. Because as we continued to walk through the hall way I could take a short look in some of the rooms because all the doors were open. In the rooms the walls were painted in bright colors. Each room seemed to have a different color and I tried to find out which reason was behind each color. I was too drunk though and the thinking made my head spin.  
Mark had led me into the living room, it was a bright green on the walls, two of them were white though. It looked good. The dark furniture matched perfectly and the flowers next to a big window were looking healthy.  
He motioned me to sit down on the couch and I did. Well, it was more like falling onto the couch.  
Mark sat down next to me, talking about something like watering the flowers, and I felt comfortable. I could imagine living here, together with him. Sitting on the couch like we were sitting right now, he would be sitting close to me, our bodies touching slightly and exchanging the heat.I never wanted this moment to end.  
Mark hunched up closer pressing his body up to meet mine and I couldn’t help but enjoy it. He noticed how I relaxed slightly and smiled at me. It was the same smile as always, just his eyes were different. They were a little more dull than usually, the alcohol leaving them a bit bloodshot. I knew I wasn’t looking any better.  
And at this state of mind I was ready to give everything I had. This here, how we were sitting close like that was what I wanted. It was hard to control myself, with all this poison in my system and I nearly gave in and leaned in to kiss Mark. I could almost feel the touch of his lips on mine, the taste of him making me dizzy.  
It had been enough for today.  
I somehow managed to stand up without falling back onto the couch again, a sharp pain stinging in my head. I needed to get Mark into bed. And not the way you’d think now. Mark was totally wasted and he needed sleep. He had helped me so much already, this is the only favor I could do him for now. I was totally wrung out as well but in the end I wasn’t as drunk as Mark.  
“Hey, Mark, let’s go to bed.” I said, trying not to slur that much.  
“I don’t wanna go to bed, Tommy.” He mumbled. “At least not alone.”  
I gulped. Should I?  
I mean he had asked for it. It’s not like we would do anything. It’s not like he wanted anything from me. I hoped it would be okay.  
Watch out.  
There was the voice again. The warning sign. I tried to ignore it, shut it out from my system. It had disappeared for a while but now it was back. I was back at it. I had to ignore it, I couldn’t go back, and I really didn’t want to.  
“Come on, Mark, I’ll go with you.” I gave him my hand and he grabbed it so I could pull him up but when he was on his feet again he stumbled into my arms and hugged me tight.   
“Thank you, Tommy.” He slurred and I smiled at his neck. He didn’t need to thank me, it was just what I needed to do.   
It was kind of hard getting Mark into the bedroom. He clung to him and his weight was pulling him down since Mark could barely hold himself on his feet and my drunkenness wasn’t helping either. I didn’t just have to fight my own body but his as well. The worst part was just to come though, the stairs. It seemed nearly impossible, every step felt like climbing up a mountain, like the air was getting thinner with every step you went higher, but we made it. It was still just a stair.   
After what felt like an eternity we reached the bedroom. I opened the door and turned on the lights just to be faced with a deep and dark red wall. So this was this rooms color. Such a cliché color choice. I started giggling a little, it was just too abstract. I never had thought Mark was that type of guy. Like I had thought he was romantic, but not in the cheesy way. I had thought he would be the poetic guy, being caring and helpful, intelligent and funny, the perfect guy all over. He still was that too me, I just…  
The hardest part was getting rid of his clothes. I wished I could skip that part but he was clearly not able to sleep in his clothes, they were sweaty and smelled like alcohol and I didn’t want him to sleep in them. I knew how it was when you woke up in the mornings still wearing your clothes from the night ago. It wasn’t nice, all dirty and sweaty.  
Trying not to touch any inappropriate body parts I first pulled off his shirt and then his jeans, leaving him in boxers. Mark needed help with the shoes though, but he managed to get rid of the socks himself and he seemed proud of that, it was kind of adorable.  
I undressed myself as well and guided Mark to the bed, on the side where the sheets where more rustled than on the other side, so I thought it would be the side he was usually sleeping on. As we reached the bed he just sat down and looked at me.  
“You can sleep now, you know.” I smiled tiredly at him. I think the alcohol was already starting to wear off and my head hurt worse than before.  
“Okay” Mark just mumbled and let himself fall onto the bed where I carefully placed the blanket over him. He looked like an angel.  
Eventually I went over to the other side of the bed and lay down next to him. We had separate blankets but I could still feel the heat radiating from him. I shifted slowly trying to get into a comfortable position but at the same time I was careful not to move that much so I wouldn’t wake him up.  
A sudden tiredness hit me and my eyes slipped shut but my lips moved automatically, whispering the words.  
“Sweet Dreams, Mark.”

When I woke up he wasn’t next to me. I saw the empty space next to me and for a second I thought I had dreamt, but then I saw the red walls and I smiled, but it converted into a grimace as the headache fully hit me, now that I was awake. I touched my head, like something was broken and sighed. We shouldn’t have drank that much. It just made everything so much more annoying.  
Slowly lifting my body up I turned around and stood up. When I finally stood on my feet the room was spinning, my eyesight going black for a moment and I needed to blink a few times before I was able to see properly again. God dammit, fucking alcohol. Extremely slow I put on my clothes, not knowing what would wait for me downstairs.  
Still wondering where Mark was I continued my way and stepped out of the bedroom and started walking down the stairs. As I reached the end I smelled it.  
Coffee.  
Just the smell of it made me feel a little more awake and I hurried up to reach the room where the scent was coming from.  
And there he was, standing in only boxers and a shirt in the kitchen, a steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand. His hair was totally messed up and he looked totally fucked up. Well, I probably didn’t look better. So, when I walked over to him he just quietly pressed a cup into my hands and smiled.  
“So, yesterday escalated a little…” he eventually said, a smirk playing around his lips.  
“Naw, just a little…” I joked and he looked slightly amused. I liked making him feel good. It was something I had never been good at. I had just made everybody feel uneasy around me.   
“So, we slept in one bed last night…” The question hung in the air and I frowned. Did Mark think that we had gone further than friends usually did? What made him think that? Had I talked in my sleep? Had I made him feel that way? A hot feeling rushed through my body, a knot building up in my stomach.  
Calm down, Tom. Calm down.  
“You… You uh, you asked me if I could join you because you didn’t want to sleep alone.” Now Mark looked at me, his blue eyes inspecting me. What was going on?  
“Ah yes, I told you I was affectionate when I drink too much.” With that the awkward tension broke. I felt the relief flooding through my veins, making me relax slightly and I sighed.  
“Yeah, you were like hugging me all the time, you know.” I laughed, smiling away my previous excitement.  
And then Mark stepped a little closer.  
It was just an unremarkable motion but I gulped. We were really close now, just a small gap between us, preventing our bodies from touching. I could even feel his warm breath on my face, it smelled like coffee.  
I didn’t know what I was doing when I leaned in. Maybe it was the rest alcohol running through my veins, maybe it was the caffeine that played with my senses, maybe it was just pure hopelessness as I pressed my lips against his, feeling the softness of his on mine.  
I would never forget that moment of joy that was numbing me before I pulled away, gasping, not for air but because of what I had done. I backed off, almost stepping against the dark orange walls. I painfully remembered a part of our conversations. He had once mentioned how he liked the color orange because it was symbolizing courage. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. It was just too abstract, ironic.  
Mark hadn’t said anything yet. He just looked at me, the weird look on his face. The weird look that he only gave me. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, but at the same time it was like I had to throw up, vomiting the signs of my love, getting rid of them.  
It was then when I saw his lips moving, he was talking to me.  
“Tom”, he started but I flinched further away from him. I couldn’t hear it. I just couldn’t bear it. I needed to get away, anywhere, just away.  
I didn’t look back as I ran out of the kitchen, I didn’t look back as I ran out of the door and I didn’t look back as I ran down the street.

 

The bench was still standing there, at the same place as it had on the day we met. Of course, you would say now, it was obviously still standing there, but somehow I had thought it may have disappeared. I didn’t know why, and in the end I was just glad it was still there.  
After I had sat down I looked at the street where everything had begun.  
I had called a taxi, hoping that the money I still had would be enough to take me here and I had had luck. Since I had left Mark’s house I had known where to go. I didn’t want to go home, it would have just made me feel locked up and I needed the fresh air right now. It was nice to feel the wind brushing against my skin and it was calming me a little, helping to sort all the thoughts that were left as a mess inside of my head.   
It was my fault.  
I had kissed him. I had misread his intentions, I was sure.  
My thoughts were racing.  
“I already guessed you would come here.”  
I hadn’t seen him coming. I had been too concentrated on my thoughts and watching the cars drive by, I just simply hadn’t noticed him coming.  
Mark sat down next to me. He had put on some jeans and a jacket, it was really cold. Fall was almost gone, the fingers of winter reaching out for us, grabbing the warmth and exchanging it with the cold.  
The silence was never ending. Maybe it was the familiar surroundings, maybe it was the well known silence that made me feel okay.  
“I’m sorry.” I stated, still looking at the street. I wasn’t going to look at him. I couldn’t.  
“You don’t have to be.” I knew he was smiling. I had always known when he was smiling, I could feel it, I could hear it in his voice. They way he spoke always showed me how he felt and I knew he was being serious.  
He wasn’t angry at me.   
Waves of relief where crashing into me. It was such a good feeling, relief. Relief was probably one of the best feelings in the world and I was glad I got to experience it so many times with Mark, I was glad he gave me the opportunity to do so. Because that wasn’t something everyone could do for you. Some people always made you feel guilty, even if you definitely weren’t and that was horrible. So, Mark was different to those people. He had never made me feel bad, he had never given me shit for anything, no matter how bad I treated him.  
That’s why he deserved to know.  
He deserved to know because he would never judge me, I knew that know. Maybe I had to actually kiss him to find out that it would be okay to tell him, maybe I had to make this one mistake to understand that he would always listen, always try to understand, always believing in me.  
I could feel it, I felt that the time had come to open up, to give in. I was finally ready, so I began speaking:  
“There is something that nobody knows about me, Mark. I have never told anyone because all my life I never had anyone that I trusted like I trust you. Nobody ever gave me the chance to say what I need to say, what has been locked up inside me since the beginning.  
I remember people, Mark. I remember every single face I have seen in my whole life. I can’t forget. I don’t know why I have this… This gift. If you could say it’s a gift. For me it has always been a curse, something that followed me everywhere and I couldn’t get rid of. I don’t expect you to understand that, I know it’s weird and creepy and scary, but I just needed to tell you the truth. My whole life I had been hiding from everybody. It was just so cruel to see everybody fall, seeing the story of people you didn’t even know but still cared for because nobody deserved to be given up. For example that day at the café when we saw Mr. Adams, I just… You see, it was bad, I always saw the bad things happening. And how could I seriously be happy with all this tragedies surrounding me? How could I want to stay alive with all the memories, all the faces, all this sadness stuck in my head?  
Maybe now you understand why I stood on that street, just a few months ago. Maybe you know how bad everything was.  
But it isn’t bad anymore.”  
And when I looked at him I saw a single tear rolling down his cheeks, a single tear showing me that he understood.  
I had never seen him cry before. Not on the day we met, never. It was hard to understand, hard to deal with right now because I was the reason he was crying.  
“It’s okay, Mark. Everything is better now.” I tried to calm him, my voice smooth.  
It was okay now.  
Mark stayed quiet for a while, regaining his composure slowly and eventually he looked at me.  
“I have to move away, Tom.” His mouth moved but I couldn’t comprehend the words. What was he talking about?  
“I have to move away because of my work. They need me in New York for a special side project of the company I’m working at. I have to move to New York, Tom.”  
New York. The other side of America. Mark would move to New York.   
“Since when do you know it?” I asked, voice shaking a little.  
“A week ago.” He said. I couldn’t construe the sound of his voice.  
“So your boss told you that you have to move to the other fucking side of America last week and you didn’t tell me?” I was getting a little furious. I was hurt and felt lost, what you should I think? He hadn’t told me. He hadn’t fucking told me and he knew it since last week.  
But then I understood.  
He hadn’t told me because he thought I wouldn’t be able to cope with it. He had known how I would react if he had told me. Mark had just wanted to save me. Again.  
It was basically the same thing with me and my secret. Well it wasn’t my own secret anymore. It was our secret now. I hadn’t told him because I thought he couldn’t deal with it. I hadn’t told him because I thought he wouldn’t understand. But he had showed me that he could and he showed me that he cared. Mark had tried his best to make me feel okay, so it would be unfair if I was angry at him now. It wasn’t even his fault he had to go away and I understood why he hadn’t told me before.   
“When do you have to leave?” I asked, scared of the answer.  
“The week after next on Wednesday.”  
I saw the sadness in his eyes. He didn’t want to leave me. I knew it. But I also knew that I had to let him go. Maybe it would be hard at the beginning, maybe it would be hard until the end, but maybe, just maybe, I had to let him go in order to live life on my own.  
I’d miss him. I’d miss him to death. Every day when he’d be gone I’d miss him. But with the time I’d learn to live with the pain. It would be okay, I knew it, because he made me see the things that way. The “okay”-way.  
“It’s okay.” He needed to hear it, I knew it. He just needed the reassurement, he needed my approval so he could live in peace, I knew that and he knew it too. And that was good, because it was just another sign that he cared, that he still cared.  
He also knew that I needed some time for myself now. Time to sort my thoughts and time to think about everything that had been going on.  
When Mark stood up, ready to go I held him back. I needed to let it out.  
I had held it back for too long, locking it in a cage deep inside me, too afraid of what would happen if I opened up.  
“I love you.”  
I really did.  
And it felt good to say it.  
Now that everything was said it was okay. Now everything was really okay.  
It wasn’t a sign of weakness, it was a sign of love and care. I really didn’t care what it had changed between us. Everything maybe had been changed by it, but it was too late, it was said.  
He didn’t need to say it back. He didn’t need to say it because I knew he did. Maybe the way we loved each other was different for each of us, but it was still love, nothing less. I had to accept it anyway, and it was okay to accept it because I loved him. I needed to accept him like he had accepted me and the way I was. He hadn’t questioned my sanity after my attempted suicide, he had just accepted it and had tried to make it better. So in the end I was glad he didn’t say anything about what I had just said but instead just grabbed my hand and squeezed it while he knelt down in front of me, a smile on his face, a little sad but beautiful, so beautiful, his blue eyes staring at me, the eyes that had seen my worst sides and still didn’t avert their gaze from me, no matter what they saw, when he said:  
“I always knew you were special.”


	4. Pt. 4 - The End

Pt. 4 – The End

After Mark had left I had been sitting on the bench for a while, sorting out my thoughts. Sometimes things just happened in a rush and I needed to sit down for a moment to think what had supposed to happen in a longer time so everything could be done step by step. But things don’t work that way. They never did.  
At some point it was getting cold so I went home, passing Mr. Adams in his blanket and waving at him. He was such a nice man. Back at my flat I immediately went to bed, I didn’t shower, I could still do that in the morning I thought. It would be Monday tomorrow and I would have to go to work, but I really didn’t care, I’d deal with that tomorrow.I fell asleep still in my clothes.

The next week went by in a rush. I helped Mark packing his things, together with some of his friends we were putting all of his property in boxes and soon his house was full of labeled boxes with all kind of things. Because of that, and maybe even some other unknown reasons, we decided that it would be better if he moved into my flat for that time. It was nice, I liked sharing it with Mark. I had never lived together with anyone except my family but it really grew on me. Sadly, the time went by too fast and the last day of Mark being here, with me, had come.  
We had decided to stay at home. It was just so familiar, the whole situation of us sitting in the big room, drinking coffee and talking, eventual silences, they were short that day, and lots of laughing. We talked about what we had experienced together, both the good and bad times. We laughed about so many thing that had happened, for example when we had been in the city centre and some kid had come up running to ask Mark for an autograph because it thought it had just met the singer of some band the kid was listening to, and Mark had been to warm-hearted to tell the kid that it had must have made a mistake or something because the kid just seemed so happy, so he let me take a picture of them. It was hilarious because Mark actually did look like that guy a bit and so we had come up with a kind of inside-joke of it, so I would sometimes call him that band guys name and not Mark. In the end it was a great evening and we tried to not get all sad and nostalgic but just enjoy the memories, until Mark changed the topic to something we hadn’t talked about since our conversation at the street on the bench.  
“Um, can I ask you something?” Mark had asked me while were sitting opposite each other like we had used to.  
“Yeah, sure, fire away.” I said, looking at him curiously. I wasn’t scared anymore, because I knew he wouldn’t say anything that made me uncomfortable, at least not too uncomfortable unless it really had to be said, and if that was the case, it would still be okay, I guess. We had gotten even closer this past week, maybe it was because we were living together, maybe it was because everything was said, I didn’t know, I just knew that we were even more comfortable with each other.  
“Had you ever seen me before the day we met?” Mark’s eyes stayed on me, waiting for the answer.  
“No, never.” I said, a smile building up and I saw that a small one crept on Mark’s face as well.   
“Okay.”

After Mark had gone to bed, he slept in the big one in the bedroom, together with me, I the frame I had hidden in a drawer and looked at the photo. In the photo you could see Mark and myself, smiling into the camera. It had been taken on Monday when we had made a break from putting Mark’s things into boxes and went to the park instead. We had asked some old lady to take the photo for us and it turned out really nice. When I had looked at the picture for the first time the idea had started building up in me. So now I was standing here, a frame with our picture inside, ready to be put on the wall. As I had told before, I had never liked having pictures on my wall, because I wanted to leave the past behind me. This time it was good to remember. It was good to have the memories and it was nice to know it hadn’t just been a dream.   
Finally the picture was on the wall and I started walking towards the room, wondering how Mark would react in the morning when he saw it.

When he found the picture, his eyes lit up and he smiled. He smiled because of me.

The goodbye wasn’t like the ones in movies.  
It was real.  
It hurt to let him go but in the end I knew we both would be okay. Still, when we hugged each other the last time I knew I wasn’t the only one who had a tear rolling down his face.  
And even if I’m not entirely sure if it was just my imagination, but I think I heard him whisper into my ear.  
“I love you too.”

~

I was sitting on the bench again, at the street were everything began. I had been sitting here so many times in the past ten years, since the day Mark had left.  
I had been okay. Not good, but okay. I had made it without him. It had been rough, but it hadn’t been impossible. Mark had showed me how to do it, he had taught me so many things nobody had taught me before. He had showed me how to see the beauty I had always been searching for, he had showed me where to look and he had never given up on me.  
The first few months had been hard, but I had made it. Eventually I had started to go out on my own, meeting new people, making new friends, but it had taken me longer to be ready for a new relationship. I had never stopped loving him though. I had never forgotten how he felt when he was near me. I had never forgotten how the touch of his lips felt on mine.  
And then one day he came back.  
I didn’t have to look up to know that it was him when he sat down next to me. I still did it though,  
There he was, ten years older than the last time I saw him, ten years I hadn’t seen him. But he was still the same, I knew it. His eyes, they were still sparkling the same way they had done when he had been 27, the piercing blue not a bit duller. He was beautiful, even after all the time.  
I looked at him, letting my eyes slide down his body, resting them on his wrists. In a beautiful font two names where tattooed on them. Skye and Jack. His wife, I assumed, and his son.  
He had been okay. He probably had been more than okay.  
We both had been okay.  
There probably was so much to say, so many words that needed to be said, so many stories to be told, but I could only think of something I had regretted that I hadn’t said it before, something that I needed to say. Something that he would still understand, even after all this time.  
“Thank you.”


End file.
